To Sail On a Sea of Stars
by Bess-the-Landlord's-Daughter
Summary: During a diplomatic mission, one of Barclay's experiments goes awry  leading to a dangerous situation as someone attempts to commandeer the Enterprise.  But, is Barclay really responsible?  Pirates of the Caribbean meets ST:TNG crossover
1. Chapter 1  No Good Can Come of This

DISCLAIMER: I do not own ST:TNG, PoTC, or anything connected with these franchises (I did create the Sculerians for the purpose of this piece, and may throw in a few miscellaneous, "red-shirted ensigns" while this story runs its course, but that's about it). This is not the first TNG fic I've ever written, but it is the first TNG fic I've posted and it is also my first "Trek meets Pirates" piece (and, regarding the introduction of the pirates... keep in mind that the initial explanation for their existence in this piece will not be as simple as it may seem at first). As always, I am doing this solely for my own enjoyment and self-improvement. Please read and review. Thank you! And now, on with the show...

"_**Everything you can imagine is real." – Pablo Picasso**_

Chapter One: "No Good Can Come of This"

Geordi LaForge stood beside the warp core in Main Engineering, studying the readouts that scrolled across the data PADD he was holding and rubbing his temples with his free hand. Shaking off the veil of fatigue that was threatening to settle over him, he stretched and yawned. The Level Two diagnostic he was running was routine and humdrum, to say the least; still, it was work that needed to be done and, at the moment, it was far less tiring than the diplomatic function he'd excused himself from earlier in order to complete it. Absently, he tugged at the collar of the dress uniform he hadn't yet bothered to change out of. _Amazing. We can propel massive ships from star to star in hours, but we still can't seem to invent gold piping that doesn't itch._

Main Engineering was minimally staffed, and relatively quiet. Geordi took a moment and glanced around. Ensign Lysom stood in front of the master situation monitor, consumed by the routine task of recalibrating the main sensor array. Behind him, Geordi heard the muffled chatter of Whitstrom and Campbell, punctuated by an occasional burst of laughter. The only other sound was the soft, steady hum of the Enterprise itself. LaForge could not recall a time when he did not find the nominal beeps and white noise of the engines and computers soothing. Moments such as this one made him immeasurably glad to be an engineer. Problems always had solutions, things made sense… and, most of the time, everything hummed along as it should.

"C-c-commander!!" Reginald Barclay's stutter announced his arrival before the man himself came into view.

_ Most of the time._

LaForge turned towards the open turbolift doors in time to see Barclay sprinting towards him at full tilt – but not for long. Three steps out of the 'lift, he tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the floor face-first, barely managing to break his fall by stretching out his arms at the last possible second. The motion dislodged Barclay's thinning hair; a few wispy strands slipped out of place. He scrambled to his feet. Lysom looked up, bewildered. Whitstrom and Campbell ceased their chatter.

It was all LaForge could do to stand there staring, openmouthed. Barclay was not panicked or terrified – indeed, he had the look of a young child who had just found every toy he'd ever wished for under the tree on Christmas morning. Or a mad scientist whose lifelong attempts to create a monster had just gone horribly, horribly right. All that would have been needed to complete either impression was a pair of oversized flannel pajamas – or a lab coat.

"Commander, you'll – you'll never b-believe it in a m-m-million years!" Barclay's agitation made it more difficult than usual for him to complete his sentence.

"Believe what, Reg?"

Wide-eyed, and looking as though he doubted the veracity of his own words, Barclay said, "I-I did it. I made them real. I don't know how, but I d-did."


	2. Chapter 2 Diplomacy

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter One. Don't own them, never will, please review!! Constructive criticism is welcome!

Chapter Two – Diplomacy

_ Captain's Log, supplemental. Today marks the official induction of the Sculerian home world into the United Federation of Planets. A vivacious and industrious race, the Sculerians will be a welcome addition. Their leader and her entourage have proven to be well-spoken, intelligent, active individuals – products of a culture that extols the virtues of youthful energy and thirsts for knowledge. We are, at times, finding it difficult to match their exuberance… but, it is quite clear that they will bring a new and refreshing perspective to the Federation. _

It had been an unusual evening.

The Sculerian delegation mingled with the senior officers in Ten-Forward following the induction ceremony. Unlike other races he'd welcomed into the Federation, the Sculerians shunned formal ceremony in general – and so, Picard now found himself in the midst of a gathering which resembled a party more than it did a solemn occasion.

For the past four hours, the ship's gymnasium had been abuzz with loud, enthusiastic banter, gleeful exclamations, and the sound of dozens of pairs of feet running to and fro across the gym's padded floor. The Sculerians had insisted upon teaching their new Federation colleagues a few of their favorite games and pastimes. In the interest of cultural exchange, Picard had agreed. What he hadn't known, however, was just how _much_ running and physical exertion the diversions would entail – his officers had spent the afternoon playing a sport that resembled multi-player racquetball, only the game was much more complex and involved the insertion and removal of players at random intervals during play. Picard hadn't been this exhausted since the Academy marathon, and he certainly had not been prepared to run back and forth swinging a racquet while wearing his dress uniform. The majority of his senior officers appeared to share his feeling of fatigue – except for Data, of course. After several rounds of the game, Picard finally succeeded in convincing the delegates to enjoy a banquet in Ten-Forward. The Sculerians showed no signs of slowing down, and were sampling the food and beverages on the banquet table with their usual enthusiasm. The head of the delegation exhibited these qualities in abundance.

To look at her and observe her reactions to the events and people around her, one would have guessed that the Praeli, the leader of the Sculerian people, was a young woman of no more than twenty – a self-possessed and well-grounded woman of twenty, perhaps, but a young individual nonetheless. In reality, her chronological age was equivalent to that of a forty-something Terran, due to the extraordinarily long lifespan of her race.

Her skin was a deep violet hue which seemed to absorb light. The Praeli studied Picard for a moment, fixing her rectangular pupils on him; her eyes had an opalescent sheen to them, giving them the appearance of pearlized glass. "You see, Captain, we have found that leadership duties are best suited to those possessed of youth and vigor. No offense meant, of course. We are simply different in that regard." She took a sip of her drink – some frothy, green beverage Guinan had whipped up when she'd requested something "unusual and surprising" – and shot a smile of appreciation in the general direction of the bartender.

"I am curious, Praeli Dolor," said Data. "What place do individuals of advanced age occupy in your society?"

"Any place they wish. Age brings with it the opportunity to reflect, to turn inward… to serve oneself instead of the world."

"Ah. That is not unlike the human concept of 'retirement,'" the android replied.

"Retirement?" The Praeli repeated the unfamiliar word.

"Yes. As humans age, many decide to pursue their own interests, and depart from the role they previously occupied in society – to 'enjoy life,' as it were."

Picard listened to the exchange, waiting for the appropriate moment to excuse himself from the conversation. After the day's events, he found that he was in need of a quiet evening, a book, and a steaming cup of Earl Grey.

The Praeli inclined her head slightly towards Data in a gesture of comprehension. A few strands of azure hair worked their way loose from her updo. "Perhaps we are more alike than I had previously assumed. But you are not the same as your shipmates?"

"That is correct. I do not age as humans do."

"You acquire wisdom, and yet you do not age." She considered that for a moment. "What an ideal arrangement. I imagine that there are many who envy you."

Before Data could open his mouth to speak, the voice of Geordi LaForge issued from Picard's communicator. "LaForge to Captain Picard."

"Go ahead, Geordi," Picard replied.

"Sir, Lieutenant Barclay just brought a situation to my attention that I think you should be aware of."

"Acknowledged. Meet me in my Ready Room. Picard out." The captain turned to Praeli Dolor once more. "My apologies, Praeli. It appears I have some ship's business to attend to."

"I understand, Captain. If you don't mind, perhaps Data could continue to enlighten me regarding your cultural norms?"

"By all means. Enjoy the remainder of the evening." Picard excused himself again and exited Ten-Forward.


End file.
